


California Girl

by Nitzer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Drowning, F/M, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitzer/pseuds/Nitzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can never hold herself down long enough. She always makes her way down here again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	California Girl

I remember her stubbing a cigarette out on her boot while smirking my way. But that doesn’t line up with the soaking, shivering girl that shows up at my door now.

She never learned how to swim and doesn’t like the beach. I know that. She knows that I know that. So she can’t possibly expect me to buy her casual, “midnight swim” excuse. It’s a desert down here and she lost the excuse of rain. I think that’s the only reason she misses it. She’s not a California girl and she knows it. She doesn’t fit in down here. And it just makes her nasty, little habit so much harder to hide.

It’s not the first time. There’s really no shock left in these late night visits. There’s more shock left in the memories of her in chokers, making me believe roses could be poison. I still don’t know what to do with her. I don’t know how to stop her, never did, never even found the right way to ask “why?” I just open the door like it’s some kind of hospitality, like I’m not just enabling her.

I know she tries to drown herself though. That much has always been clear. I don’t know where, sometimes she smells like chlorine and sometimes she reeks like the ocean. And it’s too sporadic to be planned.  There was no pattern here. And I don’t even think she knows why, I certainly don’t. I just know that after crawling out of the water she shows up here.

“Sorry.” She’ll offer sometimes, wrapped up on my couch, and it’s so fucking _broken_. I don’t think she controls this. I really don’t. She’s always ironic, always too self-aware. She never says anything that sincere. Never. I wish there could’ve been any other reason for her to be sincere for once. I wish she came over for any other reason anymore.

I don’t think she really wants to kill herself either. It’s always drowning. And she never makes it. She can never hold herself down long enough. She always makes her way down here again. She said it once, dead and sincere, “I don’t wanna die, Chris, I really don’t.” And it sounded like, maybe, she was talking about the drowning. I wish I ever saw her dry anymore.

She slid onto my couch in my towel and picked up my phone like nothing had really happened. Of course nothing had, nothing ever did. She’d be scared if it did, if anything ever really, sincerely happened. Her whole life was some big, ironic joke and shivering outside was just a blooper—a little slip-up.  “She’s cute.” She said about another girl, a girl that was probably flirting with me. Of course she did, Crystal didn’t do jealousy. Crystal did the bi-curious thing instead. And neither of us did the acknowledging-the-problem thing.

_Why do you habitually try to drown yourself, Crystal? No, maybe Crys instead._ Changing one word would totally make the difference. Maybe if I just change one word of this truly horrible question, it’ll be fine. Disgusting.

The question was only seven words. They weren’t even hard words. They’d be the hardest words to ever come out of my mouth though. Once I actually said them. I probably wouldn’t. I couldn’t. She’s not in control of this. She’s afraid of it. She’s vulnerable. I couldn’t.

Shit. That might be the problem. I can’t ask that one question. I can’t say that one word to her—that’s all I need, _one word_ —and so it never ends. I’m such a fucking coward that I sentenced us to this _Groundhog Day_ hell. It was all my fault that Crystal kept struggling to breath underwater. I couldn’t find a way to stop her and she couldn’t stop herself. It was all me.

No. No, that’s fucking ridiculous. It wasn’t my problem. It wasn’t my fault. It couldn’t have been my fault. I wasn’t the one that kept jumping into water but never swam. I wasn’t the one that would probably drown herself in a bathtub if it was deep enough. It wasn’t even my problem. She was fucking lucky that I let her back in every night.

“I’d date her before you do.” She said, no irony, back to appraising the girl neither of us knew too well. The girl that would never replace Crystal.

“I don’t think she likes girls.”

“Yeah, I know. She likes you.”

“It’d be hard to date her then.”

“I’d do it if it meant you’d give up on me.”

I knew that wouldn’t make me shut the door on her. Nothing would.

“Would it, Chris?”

“No.” The word was so hard—to say, to hear, to let hang in the air like that. “I love you, Crystal.”

She smiled and she sighed but it wasn’t irritated fondness. It was sad and knowing. “I know.” I guess I couldn’t have expected her to say it back. “I’m sorry.” _I’m sorry that you love me. I’m sorry that I love you back. I’m sorry that this is what you’re stuck with._

At least she had the decency to apologize.

**Author's Note:**

> collecting all my original works on here too, stay tuned, I guess


End file.
